


Handling Package

by Ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, references to injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: Ren pulls in front of the office just as the clock ticks over to 8, nudging up behind an idling Toyota – an Uber/Lyft judging by the decal. He sees the passenger point backward, prompting the driver to nod shortly before they turn around, their head peeking between the seats and suffering an obvious drop in their jaw.Ren waves lazily with two fingers, smirking when both onlookers turn back forward with a start.Hux makes his presence known with a tetchy clear of his throat from the sidewalk, approach signaled by the steady clack of oxfords on the cement. “Obnoxious,” he says, reaching for the handle, only to pause, tragically wise to the trick. “Unlock the door.”Ren lifts a hand, hovering a moment, then goes instead to turn a dial on the radio, leaning back with a matching hum at the scream of a guitar. He’s feeling a little like stretching his limits tonight, further than usual.





	Handling Package

Ren hums under his breath, turning his feet under his chair for a few seconds while narrowing his eyes out the window. He turns in a whim to look over toward the _interior_ office glass, leaning forward and catching Hux’s bright head bent over his desk in the other corner office.

He grabs his phone, hunching in with elbows at his sides while tapping at Hux’s name at the top of the text screen. He’s said they could talk about it, which is basically a yes, and Ren… definitely needs it.

But he’s going to have to act like Hux did say yes.

<<‘What time?’

<<‘Are we going’

The text goes unanswered for a good thirty seconds, and he leans forward with a frown to peek again at Hux’s desk. His head has moved, now tilted in a different direction – hopefully, at his phone.

_’20:00.’ >>_

Ren exhales with a murmur of relief, biting his lower lip for a victorious pair of seconds.

<<‘Car?’

_‘Yours.’ >> _

_‘I’ll be working until then.’ >>_

_‘Pick what you’d like.’ >>_

He tips his head back and forth, deciding to test his luck further. It’s worked up to this point, though his expectations are particularly low for this attempt.

<<‘Aventador’

Hux responds immediately, and his tone can be heard practically through the office at full volume.

_‘Trash.’ >>_

<<’You can’t hate the Lambo forever’

_’I can.’ >>_

_’That car nearly killed us.’ >>_

Ren rolls his eyes, tetchily rubbing his thumb across his cheek, then responds before he can stop himself.

<<’Oh yeah.’

<<’That little sprained wrist you got must have been real killer.’

_‘I don’t even know why you got that thing fixed.’ >>_

_‘You were in hospital for a month.’ >>_

Ren stares at the words for a beat, then scoffs under his breath.

<<’Fuck you’

<<‘It a good car’

<<’I still drive it to work’

_‘I know.’ >>_

_‘Huayra.’ >>_

If course Hux would go back on his offer, though Ren probably shouldn’t have asked, instead just gone and brought it. He presses his lips together, a frustrated ache blooming at the center of his chest.

<<’I thought I could choose’

_‘I changed my mind.’ >>_

<<’The road clearance on that thing is like an inch’

‘ _Frightened of the potholes?’ >>_

_‘I can drive it.’ >>_

Ren looks up to glare Hux’s office for the hell of it, only to incidentally catch Unamo walking by, then immediately spinning around to the other direction. He stares at her back for a beat, then feels his shoulders fall and goes back to his phone, hesitating with his thumb over the screen before giving in.

<<’F U, I spent the 2mil.’

<<’I’m driving it.’

* * *

Ren pulls in front of the office just as the clock ticks over to 8, nudging up behind an idling Toyota – an Uber/Lyft judging by the decal. He sees the passenger point backward, prompting the driver to nod shortly before they turn around, their head peeking between the seats and suffering an obvious drop in their jaw.

Ren waves lazily with two fingers, smirking when both onlookers turn back forward with a start.

Hux makes his presence known with a tetchy clear of his throat from his place on the sidewalk, approach signaled by the steady clack of oxfords on the cement. “Obnoxious,” he says, reaching for the handle, only to pause, tragically wise to the trick. “Unlock the door.”

Ren lifts a hand, hovering a moment, then goes instead to turn a dial on the radio, leaning back with a matching hum at the scream of a guitar. He’s feeling a little like stretching his limits tonight, further than usual.

Hux, to his credit, manages to wait through the chorus before he moves to reach down himself through the window. It’s almost disappointing.

Ren gently lets the car roll forward just before Hux can tap the switch, though, slipping into the space vacated by the Uber. He peeks to the mirror, seeing the momentary tightening of that lifted hand into a fist, and covers his face to hide a smile.

Hux marches the two yards forward to follow him, hissing under his breath and being quicker this time with his go for the lock. “You’re making a scene.”

“I think that’s you,” Ren disagrees, tempted to goose it a bit just to work Hux up even more. He settles with openly watching Hux climb down into the car, eyes trailing down long legs as they stretch and fold into the narrow space of the seat.

He does tap the gas hard, barely looking, when he pulls back out into the street. He ignores the honk of an angry sedan, knowing they would have been loud no matter how Ren had been driving. People like that only have one reaction when seeing his cars: envy.

“You’re going to wreck another car,” Hux says, interrupting the train of thought with familiar pretension.

Ren presses the brake a little late on the next light, just to watch Hux roll his eyes over to him. He smirks back, “Scared?”

“Of you?” Hux responds, a single brow going up. He leans over the center console, voice lowering, “I’m only thinking about the fact I’ll finally be in charge when you’re gone.”

Ren shakes his head, popping the clutch into second and feeling that little thrill at the back of his throat when the tires squeal across the pavement. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh please,” Hux says, his dismissive gesture obvious, even just from the corner of Ren’s eye. “You’d have to hire a new _department_ if I left.”

Of course, Hux would think he’s that valuable. He’s not even the head developer anymore, he’s mostly delegation, and even that is just to more delegators.

“And perhaps an escort service,” Hux adds shortly, evidently taking Ren’s silence as a sign to continue. He exhales a scoff, his next words little more than a mumble, but the car is only so big. “Unless you already have someone else in mind there.”

Ren feels his expression drop, the retort he’d been trying to prepare dying on his tongue. He takes a shallow breath, letting that ping around in his head for a few moments, then decides to avoid thinking too much about it. The nebulous thing he has going here with Hux is more romance than he ever expected to get out of adulthood, anyway, and it’s always been tentative, even if he’d argue it’s been more serious the past year. They’ve been ending the night together more than they haven’t, sleeping over to the next morning afterward despite not taking the cars out, or even doing _anything_.

But Ren’s not sure how much of that routine has been pity for the state he was in after that truck forgot to check its mirrors. He’s been worrying it’ll drop off, revert them to a place where Hux makes excuses about late-night work or clients, and he goes back to living between bouts of exhibitionism.

He probably _should_ have someone else in mind. He doesn’t. It’s just Hux.

“You’d have to fire me, though,” Hux says, voice recovering and his thin hand landing on Ren’s thigh, squeezing shortly as he drags it down with a light tease across his knee. He’s looking out the other window when Ren glances over. “No one else would pay my salary.”

Ren feels that sinking sensation go subterranean. “You’ve gone looking?”

“ _No_ ,” Hux says, practically snapping, as if he’s got the right to be annoyed about it. His hand slides higher up Ren’s thigh, then down again; the grip firm, but not painful nor particularly erotic. “Bringing it up is simply the quickest way to shut down offers.”

Ren glances over quickly, then looks again to the road as he turns out onto the winding highway. “I don’t know how much you make.”

“I know,” Hux says, voice lilting upward and sly, his patting abruptly turning more lewd with a heavy stroke just over Ren’s fly.

Ren ignores the way his own hand twitches across the steering wheel, biting briefly at the inside of his lip. “Is it more than me?”

“Organa,” Hux says flatly, leaning further over the handbrake, having clearly noticed the movement and settling in to be an asshole. His hand now rests just an inch or so away from Ren’s fly, steadily squeezing his thigh. “You hold more shares than I do.”

Ren shifts his legs open slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure, then immediately regrets it when he hears a low huff from beside him. He peeks sideways, just to confirm the smirk across Hux’s mouth. “Yeah, but that’s not net pay.”

“Give yourself a raise, then,” Hux says, his tone still dry, and now almost painfully so. It’s difficult to tell if he’s legitimately not answering, or yanking Ren around for the hell of it. “Though I can’t say the other shareholders will stand idly by.”

Ren shifts his leg under Hux’s hand again, thought now it’s more a nudge. “We should buy them out.”

Hux doesn’t respond for the next few moments, fingers tapping more absently than seductively on Ren’s thigh, then exhales a surprisingly dissatisfied hum. “They’d have to sell first,” he says, his hand lifting from Ren’s leg to in front of his nose, aggressively gesturing at the direction of the building. “I hardly see Peavey giving up his right to threaten me, let alone Canady.”

“Sloane,” Ren offers, as the old founder doesn’t seem to do much except stonewall Ren’s solo proposals until she’s spoken to Hux.

“Not before she’s dead,” Hux says, dismissing the suggestion with a low scoff, hand settling back on Ren’s leg with another thrum of his fingers. “And I think she’s already told you that.”

“Yeah,” Ren mutters, glancing up to the mirror at a bright flash and finding an Audi has gotten a little too close; he taps his brakes pointedly, then speeds back up at the next turn, ignoring the scolding squeeze.

“Where are we going?”

“Up,” Ren says, shaking his head slightly to loosen his hair, feeling a stickiness at his nape. The anticipation always gets him worked up as much as actually getting his dick touched – knowing soon he’ll be parked in the perfect spot, private but close enough to the road, and reclining his seat before reaching for Hux in the dim light.

Hux doesn’t seem to suffer the same, eternally a buzzkill. “Ren.”

“It’s _on_ the way up,” Ren says, lifting his hand from the shifter to gesture up in the hills, though he doesn’t say it’s getting close. He bites his lip slightly, heat flashing under his jaw, and tries to ignore how uncomfortable he’s getting under his slacks. “Kind of in the park. Hidden, but still looking over the city.”

Hux offers a low, skeptical noise, hand sliding high and pressing over Ren’s fly again, squeezing because of course he’s noticed, then cruelly back further down to his knee. “Alright.”

Ren knows his face must be red, ears feeling like firebrands sticking out from his hair. He glances sideways quick, catching that Hux is also a little pink under his perfectly straightened shirtcollar, and bites back a smile looking back at the road.

It feels good to know this part of… of their thing has lasted this long because they’re both still into it. The first time had been almost stupid, getting each other off on a stretch of dark, empty highway after Hux had, _supposedly_ , accidentally swiped right on his profile and Ren had swiped the same as a joke. Sort of. And it wasn’t even something he had been into before they started, only took anyone out in the cars to show off, but Hux was different. He wasn’t impressed easily by speed, didn’t get cute-scared when Ren drove like an asshole, but he did calmly ask Ren to give road head while driving to Vegas after two weeks of blueballing him on an app.

Ren pulls out into the path with a grimace as the car jerks into a hole, ignoring Hux’s cleared throat, but the view when he manages to get to the overhang is worth it for the potential repairs. “See,” he says, looking out across the skyline, slowly lighting up as the sun sets out across it; he had always thought coming up here would be too cheesy, and it is, but only a little. “It’s a good spot. Saw it on a hike.”

“Ah,” Hux says, quiet for a tense second, then taps at Ren’s leg before withdrawing his hand; the click of his seat belt is loud when he moves to lean forward for a better look. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

“We’ll just bribe them again,” Ren says, reaching down to recline his seat back with a near silent rasp of motors, then spreading his legs and stretching out into the new space, staring out the windshield. He turns his head and leans sideways with a grunt as thin hands slide across his chest, arching upward slightly when Hux’s hand leaves his stomach.

“Eager, I see,” Hux says, tugging Ren’s shirt open, slipping a hand beneath his tank and tracing along his stomach with cool fingers. He presses up against Ren’s sternum with a low huff, then turns his hand to tease at a nipple, prompting more heat and a dull jolt southward. “You’re sweating with it.”

“Been teasing,” Ren says, sliding his own hand along of the front of Hux’s waistcoat, using his thumb to pop the hooks and buttons out one by one with practice. He rolls his hips some against the tightness of his groin, biting at his lip, then swallows a groan when Hux’s groping hand slips down to massage him through his slacks.

“You poor thing,” Hux mutters, head tilting down to catch Ren’s mouth in a kiss. He shifts the other way after a closed-mouth beat, noses bumping, but soon his tongue is seeking out Ren’s with welcome fervor.

Ren sighs into Hux’s mouth as he responds, turning into the fingers that slide through his hair. He wishes for a few seconds that he had some shit truck with a bench seat, just for this, so he could climb over without worrying about handcrafted whatever, but at least this car only has the handbrake between them. It’s always awkward doing this over a giant center console with eight hundred buttons.

He reaches down to return the favor, blindly tugging at Hux’s belt and digging in under his shirt, only to feel something odd in his pocket, round and – and _soft_. He digs it out quick, ignoring Hux’s protest as the kiss ends and he’s pushed away, inadvertently letting him look at the…

It’s some sort of ring with a wide bulging side that is definitely covered in silicone.

“Is this a sex toy?” Ren asks, squeezing it slightly to bulge out the ends.

Hux is quiet for a suspiciously long time, though he does catch Ren’s eyes when it is asked of him. “Yes, I – ” he pauses oddly, then exhales a heavy, familiarly put-upon sigh. “I thought we could try something new.”

Ren blinks down when temporarily idle fingers start unbuttoning his slacks, biting at the inside of his lip and trying not to rock his hips into the warm hand that pulls his dick from his briefs. He’s quickly approaching the point where he just wants Hux to keep touching him.

“It’s a type of vibrator,” Hux continues, speaking quick and snatching the ring from Ren’s lax fingers with his other hand.

Ren narrows his eyes, realizing that’s what the cylinder must be and feeling a little stupid. “Like the Hitachi?”

“…Yes,” Hux says, his tone a little too patronizing for comfort, though the fact he’s touching Ren’s dick makes up for it enough. “But not near as strong. I doubt you’ll end tonight crying.”

“Fuck you, where did you –“ Ren jerks slightly as Hux’s fingers slide around the head of his dick, watching with a swallow as the silicone ring is fitted snug underneath. He clears his throat, though his voice still comes out tight when he looks back up to Hux, “Did you have this at the office?”

“I didn’t just pop out and get it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Hux says, then thoroughly derails the conversation with a press of a button.

“Fuck,” Ren gasps, jumping some and letting go of Hux to grab at the back of the seat, gripping hard into the leather while little sensations jolt straight down his dick and up into his brain stem. It’s nothing like the Hitachi, no, but there’s definitely something to be said for it being attached – no amount of squirming will get him away. “That’s more than… Than I expected.”

“A little test of your stamina,” Hux says, lightly jacking Ren’s cock underneath the toy for a few slow strokes, crowding in closer over the brake with a low, thoughtful hum. “I did forget the more traditional ring, so try not to come too soon.”

“Fuck you,” Ren says, squeezing at the seat and trying to keep his hips from moving, a strange urge to hump against nothing starting to take over. He cranes his neck just as Hux hums in his ear, heat bursting under his skin at the feel of teeth dragging just down the lobe. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Hux murmurs, his lips soft while they brush in shapes against Ren’s skin. His mouth opens further, breath hot as he exhales slow, next reaching past Ren’s face to draw a line down the window with his knuckle. “You’re fogging the glass already.”

“You’re a _cheat_.” Ren takes a shaky breath, looking down at the ring currently torturing him. “Shit.”

Hux tuts low, leaning away with a final slide of fingers up the length of Ren’s dick, cruelly tracing around the ring. “Just don’t touch.”

“I won’t,” Ren says, hoping he’s just imagining that his voice has risen a pitch or two. The toy is a surprise, yeah, but now the sensation is leveling off, not quite so arresting and letting him think clearer… Only to realize that Hux just all but _confirmed_ he had it in his office; fuck, did he _use_ it? Is that why it was in his –

“Ren,” Hux says sharply, losing that soft tone for his more customary use of Ren’s name as a reprimand. “Stop thinking about your dick. You’re meant to be focusing on mine.”

Ren looks over, tempted to argue that he was – but said cock is already jutting from pressed slacks, half-hard and curving slightly with a particular obscenity that always makes Ren’s mouth go dry. It’s the sort of image he’d jerked off to before they ever started, and even before the fantasy began to match Hux a little too close.

He turns in the seat, ignoring the twinge at his side and shifting on his leg for a better position to lean over the handbrake. He wonders if not touching includes rubbing off against the seat, but he’d have to turn around almost completely and this car isn’t big enough for him to do that, even with the seat all the way back. He’s pretty sure Hux knew that, too.

Hux reaches out with a low huff, grip soft but firm as he pulls Ren in for another kiss, his long legs settling into their usual spots and hips jutting upward so his cock turns at a faultless angle into Ren’s hand. The Huayra has been out more often since the Lambo lost favor, making it practically habit to settle into right away, though not as comfortable as Hux’s obnoxious yellow Hennessey, which Ren is half-certain was only bought _because_ it’s got nothing between driver and passenger.

Ren breaks the kiss with a reluctant hum, glancing down while stroking up on Hux’s fully hard cock. He tilts his head when Hux presses a faint kiss his cheek, against the stupid scar, and tries to rein his blush while balancing himself with one hand on the low edge of the seat. He wets his lips slightly before shifting down to take the head shallow, sucking for a few seconds, then licking along the receding foreskin and dropping his fingers to twist shaky at the base. It’s hard to concentrate with his own dick heavy between his legs, but a quick look up and he catches Hux’s expression, soft but intense, prompting a different heat to flush under his skin as it gradually becomes all about the cock in his mouth.

“Just like that,” Hux says, his hand settling on the back of Ren’s head, tugging lightly on his hair with every bob downward. “Look at that mouth on you, good lord. You belong down there.”

Ren feels a moan from low in his chest, closing his eyes and fielding an embarrassing wave of arousal that has little to do with the vibe. He pulls back and tongues at Hux’s tight frenulum, feeling the hand tighten in his hair, then tilts his grip on Hux’s cock while moving his hand lower, wishing he didn’t need the leverage on the seat and awkwardly rolling taut balls in his palm while licking heavy around the ridge.

Hux’s hand slides hot along his head to his nape, squeezing there before moving down his spine, nails digging in and unsubtle just above his ass. “Every part of you… was made for me – for my cock. I could just get you _filthy_.”

Ren feels his ears burn worse and leans over to take Hux deeper, tears forming hot at the corners of his eyes as he swallows against the swollen head, and knowing he’s done right when he succeeds in breaking the muttered dirty talk into quiet, throaty moans. He lets up a few moments later, feeling way too proud of managing to suppress his gag reflex despite it being the nth time, and rolls his tongue with short bobs of his head, twisting his hand in tight turns and knowing Hux is into it by the mutters above and the uneven jerks of hips below. He slows down, drawing it out, hollowing his cheeks with briefer dips of his head and savoring every twitch and jerk of Hux in his mouth. 

“Ren,” Hux grunts, the fingers of his other hand grabbing hard at Ren’s hair just to yank at his scalp.

The pain is sharp and jolts straight to Ren’s dick, making him groan again, as the buzzing of the vibrator suddenly becomes more intense by consequence. He struggles to concentrate back on Hux’s cock, moving his hand quicker but lapping heavy, sloppier now, only to flinch as the bitter brine of come spurts across his tongue with with uneven jerks. He does gag and nearly spits on reflex, but somehow manages to keep it down – shit, that had been a _warning_ , not just Hux being heavy-handed. It’s so damned hard to think with this stupid thing around his dick, making him feel more hot than usual and probably melting his brain.

“Did you just swallow?” Hux says, unsurprisingly taunting and dragging his hand through Ren’s hair in soothing, if unsteady strokes. His other hand cups around the back of Ren’s neck, thumb drawing circles against his skin. “I almost feel bad for the detailer who won’t get paid.”

Ren shoves off with an eye-roll, reaching up to sweep itchy, damp hair from neck, then dropping his hand and only barely stopping himself just before he squeezes at his painfully throbbing dick. He exhales slowly, forcing both his hands to the side, then peeks to Hux, worried slightly that he’s about to get a threat that he’ll be jerking _himself_ off tonight.

Mercifully, he only finds Hux back in his own pants and digging into the tiny glovebox that Pagani counts as storage.

“You had a chocolate in here,” Hux says, flashing the dark lube packet with a lift of two fingers, not even glancing up while looking through the others in his opposite hand. “And a – a _buttery nipple_? Really, Ren?”

“It was a variety pack,” Ren mutters, watching both disappear back behind the little door with frustration; he nearly always forgets he has the flavors. He doesn’t even know what a real buttery nipple tastes like, but he’s sure even the artificial version is better than _come_.

Hux shakes his head slowly, tearing into the boring blue packet of unscented. He looks up, then a single brow raises, and he gestures for Ren to lie back with a pointed jut of his chin.

Ren runs a tight hand through his hair as he follows along, glancing briefly down with gritted teeth at his cock visibly jerking, and knows this isn’t going to last long at all. The lube is a total waste, since Hux isn’t even going to get his hand around him before it’s over.

“Now, for you,” Hux says, his slick fingers swirling around Ren’s dick and the vibe, catching the rest of the lube when it’s poured messily over the top. “Something new.”

It’s unclear what happening until suddenly the vibe slides slickly down with a stroke of Hux’s hand, sending buzzing, almost painful jolts down Ren’s shaft until it hits the seam of his sac. He tightens the hand in his hair for a second, back arching, before dropping it to the door, digging his fingers into the leather and thrusting up into the enticing squeeze of Hux’s hand.

“Arms, I’m not –” Ren bites hard on his tongue, barely silencing what what is truly an embarrassing whine. His dick has barely been touched, but at the same time it’s been touched for like _twenty_ minutes, and it proves difficult not to just come. He really, really wishes Hux had brought a – _fuck_ – he should have had a real cock ring. He always gets a cock ring with the Hitachi.

“Come here,” Hux says, his hands switching and suddenly he’s turning at the waist, previously occupied hand now wrapping slippery around Ren’s nape. The kiss is more frantic than the last, biting at each other more than anything coordinated, and only getting sloppier when Hux taps the vibe so the pattern changes to something slower, but higher frequency.

“Fuck,” Ren mutters into Hux’s mouth, thrusting faster up against the grip around his cock; the intermittent buzzing that’s too little and too much at the same time. He wraps an arm awkwardly around Hux’s back, trying to get in closer despite the stupid handbrake. “Fuck. Arms, that’s – _Arms_.”

He tightens his hand and tugs in Hux’s shirt in warning, then hears a shout burst from his throat when Hux’s hand slides up and down over the head of his dick, pressing the vibe in slightly and making Ren certain his dick jerks in time with the pattern as he starts to come. It’s a wash of relief, blood rushing in his ears – until suddenly it all turns _bad_ , as a stabbing, burning pain develops quick in his side that threatens to bring tears to his eyes. It’s like he’s got seams that are straining to come apart.

“Ren?” Hux asks, slipping the vibrator from Ren’s shaft with quick fingers. He clearly thinks it’s the problem, so the thought could almost be nice if Ren could feel anything but agony at the moment.

“I think I’m gonna die,” Ren whispers, closing his eyes tight and curling slightly inward, then flinching back into his seat when that only makes it worse. He didn’t think it was possible to feel this awful after an orgasm.

Hux is quiet for a moment, then sighs something like a _laugh_. A click sounds; he's reaching for a tissue in the glovebox. “You say that every time.”

“My side is –“ Ren pauses with a shaky exhale, but even just breathing makes the pain flare. “Locked up. Bad. Hurts.”

“What?” Hux exclaims, actually sounding concerned now, and his hands are back on Ren’s body as he scrambles half-over the handbrake. A hand around Ren’s nape to pull him in, another digging under his shirt again to settle soft over the scar, rubbing uneven circles into the seizing muscle.

Ren turns his head into Hux’s narrow shoulder, keeping his eyes shut and trying not to grit his teeth too hard. He really wishes they were in a bed right now, so he could stretch out and wait for the unwelcome pain to fade before they resumed the fun pain.

…Oh, fuck. He’s old – he’s actually _old_.

He breathes into Hux’s neck, concentrating on small inhales and smaller exhales until he feels his side begin to loosen against gentle fingers, everything easing slow but sure. It takes a few seconds longer than that to get to that satisfying post-orgasm bonelessness, but it seems twice a strong for it, leaving him slumped into the seat and panting out relief behind every next inhale.

“Have you been doing your exercises?” Hux asks, his voice tight, breathing nearly as heavy as Ren’s for some reason.

“Fuck you,” Ren says, peeking open his eyes and reaching up to press a hand flat to his stomach. “My abs… look _great_.”

Hux’s next exhale is frustrated, audibly piqued and dampening any burgeoning good humor. “Ren.”

“It was sort of – the vibrator and the angle and everything,” Ren says, trying to make it seem like nothing, though there’s an ache still there lingering like a threat. He just doesn’t need Hux to know that; to find some reason to overthink or overreact. “Bunch of little sit ups, I’m fine. I’m _good_.”

Hux keeps quiet for a few seconds, and though his expression isn’t visible, he’s clearly scowling with a force that would make a bulldog jealous. He squeezes Ren’s nape for a brief moment before pulling away, leaving Ren cold. “If you say.”

“Yeah,” Ren mutters, curling his hand in before he can give into the odd urge to reach out and drag Hux back in close. He can crowd in when they get back his place, if he remembers to, and pretend it’s because he’s tired, rather than just… just wanting to do it. He looks down at his shirt, toying with a button, then exhales heavily and just reaches for his slacks to halfheartedly put himself away. He’s been seen in public wearing less – in actual print, too, when he was younger, though that was paparazzi and he hadn’t had so many fuck-ugly scars.

The car is easier to back out of the overhang than Ren had hoped, maneuvering it out of the small space and onto onto the thankfully empty road with a short squeal of tires on dusty pavement. He peeks over to Hux when they get to a lit stretch of highway just a few miles on, catching him looking out the window with one hand flexing in and out of a fist over his lap. 

He looks away just when Hux starts to turn, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes at the upcoming taillights.

“I’m not sure we should do this anymore.”

Ren feels his heart sink like a stone, stunned that everything he’s dreaded could be so easily reduced to a simple sentence that echoes between his ears and reduces him to staring down the lined pavement. He takes a tight breath, blinking a few times too many, but it’s dark; he probably goes unnoticed. He just has to make sure he stays steady on the road.

“Or not so often,” Hux continues, shifting in his seat with a short clear of his throat, and the cool press of his fingers is another shock along Ren’s knuckles where his hand sits wrapped around the shifter. “It’s far more comfortable in bed. Neither of us has to drive after.”

Ren glances over with a flick of his eyes sidelong, swallowing a sigh of relief – Hux only meant in the _cars_. He’ll still want to come home. “You started it.”

Hux scoffs quietly, barely audible above the engine and the radio. “I know, but it’s proven slightly dangerous.”

“Seriously?”

Hux’s fingers disappear. “Ren.”

Ren feels a snarl form across his mouth, soreness from his earlier assumption fueling a new hurt. “Hell, Hux, you won’t let me take out the Lambo, and now you don’t want me to drive at all? One accident all it takes for you to stop trusting me?”

“I do trust you, as demonstrated by _right now_ ,” Hux snaps, his voice getting loud, filling the cab with his unwarranted judgment in expert fashion. “I wish you'd stop bringing up that deathtrap - that’s not even what I’m talking about.”

“What the hell, then?” Ren says, feeling his throat get tight as frustration manifests in its usual awful way, making him want to throw something rather than cry, but there’s nothing in the car, and he doesn’t… He’s just wants it to be like before, when they could just go out, and his side didn’t hurt and they goaded each other into doing stupid shit. “ _We_ weren’t the reason we crashed. It wasn't either. And it’s not like you even got hurt.”

“You don’t quite understand,” Hux says tightly, his tone weakening, yet still somehow so condescending.

Ren rolls his eyes, spying a pull-off a few hundred feet ahead. He slides into it with a loud displacement of gravel, loosely skidding under the wheels and carrying them a few feet closer to the guardrail than intended. “It’s a car,” he says, tapping at the ignition and tempted to pull the key, just to throw _it_. The thing with the Lambo is got irritating months ago, because no, he _doesn’t_ fucking understand. “You can’t be scared of it.”

“I’m not scared of the damned car,” Hux snaps, the sharpness of his tone a surprise. He laughs next, pitchy and grating as it echoes through the small cab, and insincere in a different way to the usual. “I just would rather not see it ever again.”

Ren exhales a slow breath, shaking his head and looking out the window when a pair of headlights sweep past. He doesn’t understand a lot of Hux’s motives sometimes – most times; he’s always saying one thing and meaning another, like it would kill him to be straightforward.

“Do you know what it was like, Ren,” Hux says, first posing the question in that waspish, acerbic voice, though the attitude quickly begins to crumble, “To look over in _that car_ and see your body covered in blood and your head cracked open and – and your fucking _guts_ opened up by a piece of a door? Do you?! You were dead – and I realized I…”

Ren feels his chest go tight as the words drop off, his breath subsequently pressing out of him. He stares at the dash for a few seconds, alarmed to realize the low, wet noise filling the silence is actually coming from Hux, and warily glances from the corner of his eye. “I was alive.”

“I didn’t know that!” Hux shouts, reaching up and shoving both hands into his hair, visibly shaky, then dragging them down his face to cover his eyes as he curls up in the passenger seat. “I thought I was calling 999 on a _corpse_. I had to be fucking sedated!”

“911,” Ren corrects quietly, mostly for something to say – he can’t believe Hux has kept a lid on this for almost a year. He had been pretty damned sure he knew everything that bothered Hux even a little, especially about himself, and this seems to have made him downright miserable. 

“But I’m not bloody scared of it,” Hux snaps, chest still heaving with anger or wretchedness, or more likely: both. “I _hate_ it. It should be scrap.”

“Hey,” Ren says, pulling Hux’s hand from his face, then hesitating a moment before slipping his fingers down between thinner, shakier ones. They don’t hold hands; not like this, without the pretext of sex or the intention of it. “I’ll sell it.”

Hux scoffs weakly, turning his head further away rather than looking up. “You love that car.”

“I do,” Ren agrees, exhaling hard, then shifting forward to easier bring Hux’s hand up near his mouth, whispering into their knuckles and tightening his own grip. He just wants to get his point across without actually _saying_ it. “Until I sell it cheap to some asshole in Ohio. You’ll never see it again.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you bought this thing,” Ren says, ghosting his hand over the door panel, slowly walking around the front and tracing at the little Koenigsegg armor badge. “You didn’t seem interested at all in Geneva.”

“Yes, well,” Hux clears his throat, quiet for a conspicuous beat, then reaching out to tap the hood himself. “I do hope you enjoy it.”

Ren freezes, glancing up and sideways from the corner of his eye. “What?”

Hux looks away, gesturing in a particularly vague manner with a flick of his fingers. “I do _hope_. You enjoy _it_.”

“You –“ Ren takes a deep breath, letting it out slow. “ _Fuck_.”

“It was your favorite,” Hux says, hand dropping to his side and curling into a loose fist. He seems nervous – _no_ , he’s definitely nervous. “The least I could do is try to replace it with something less offensive.”

Ren stares for a solid beat, then glances around quick before dropping to his knees; he really wants to say that Hux is his favorite, but just the idea turns his insides to jelly, so instead he grabs him by the back of the thighs. “I’m going to swallow your cock.”

Hux practically hisses, pitching back into the hood of the car. “We’re outside!”

Ren peeks up under his lashes, kissing softly over the noticeable bulge already growing under Canali trousers. “And? Just me being down here is getting you hot.”

“We’re at work, you twat,” Hux says, though the hand he lifts settles decidedly on the back of Ren’s head, pulling him in, rather than making any attempt to shove him away.

“We’re the only ones who park here,” Ren says, using his thumb to undue buttons. “Supercars and shit. They’re scared of them.”

**Author's Note:**

> (The title of this is like the worst innuendo ever, but I had to do it.)
> 
> Also there's not a tag for established relationship to more established relationship, but it's here in spirit. 
> 
> I can also be found on the [twitters](https://twitter.com/ezlebe?lang=en) and lesser so on [ tumblr](http://ezlebe.tumblr.com) at Ezlebe


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